


Room 403

by 100dabbo



Category: Hotel Chevalier (Short Film 2007), The Darjeeling Limited (2007)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Canon Dialogue, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Hand Jobs, Hotel Sex, Missing Scene, Mommy Kink, Praise Kink, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 21:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo
Summary: When Jack's ex-girlfriend appears at his hotel, they slip into a familiar dynamic.
Relationships: Jack Whitman/Jack Whitman's Ex-Girlfriend
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Room 403

**Author's Note:**

> Just re-watched the film tonight, I had to write something ✨  
> Also I just realised it’s mother’s day in the UK today um-

He couldn’t help but notice the bruises. A physical mark of damage on her skin to combat the emotional equivalent she had laid upon him for so many years.

“You’ve got bruises on your body.” Jack murmured against her skin, looking into her eyes as she withdrew her lips from his neck.

She silenced his concern with a press of her lips onto his own, only to pull away again, look up and down his face, and state,

“Whatever happens in the end, I don’t wanna lose you as my friend.”

He blinked.

“I promise, I will never be your friend. No matter what. Ever.”

“If we fuck, I’m gonna feel like shit tomorrow.” She said it with a husk of a voice, strained as though from ache or stress.

“That’s okay with me.” Jack re-joined, so often the one on the receiving end of relationship guilt that it wouldn’t be so back for the tables to turn, for her to have a taste of her own medicine.

She looked into his eyes again, deeply, processing what he said, knowing where it would lead them, listening to his breaths go in and out between the intimate space they held. Their mouths pressed back together, Jack’s hands finally toying with the hem of her shirt to lift it from her torso, wanting to see her in the nude again for the first time in months.

It was what he’d been waiting for, where his mind first went when he got the call in that hotel room just a half-hour prior.

The way he watched her unveil it from herself with the same doe-eyed expression as he would as always made the next few words rise up from her, not a thought regarding the consequence,

“I love you.” Her scratchy voice told him, hands smoothing up over his thigh to reach onto his belt, “I never hurt you on purpose.”

Jack sensed her shifting fingers, but he didn’t stop looking at her for a second.

“I don’t care.”

Simply put, and truthful at that, he said it with his chest. The self-destructive cycle of their on and off relationship was wired into his brain, something he both craved and repelled, and when it was brought to him, right on the doorstep of a hotel room in Paris, he couldn’t refuse it for a second. He couldn’t even feign disinterest. The lukewarm bath in the adjoining en-suite, the tidied floor of the whole room, and two Bloody Marys on their way were evidence enough of that.

She embraced him after he said it, brushing his lips with her own for a few fleeting kisses before she was fully atop him again, face in his neck, taking in the scent she hadn’t smelt in so long. A finger caressed against the shell of his ear, making its way down his jaw line, pointing up beneath his chin before landing on his bottom lip. She came back up to order him,

“Say my name, Jack.” 

Her fingertips trailed to the corner of his mouth, brushing just below where his moustache ended, seeing his eyes go heavy, still trying to concentrate on her face. When the lips parted, mouth opening just to start saying it, they slipped inside, pulling down the lip, exposing his bottom row of teeth. The desperation in his eyes was real. She had to repeat her charge with a whisper for it to get through again, “Say my name.”

He could only do it once her digits left his mouth, and that was when he swallowed too, taking a breath, calming himself, barely just steading his voice to relay what she wanted to hear for the first time in too long.

“Mommy.”

The faint smile that quirked up her lips for a micro-second was all the affirmation he needed to bite his lip. His eyes still couldn’t move from her, even when she began tugging at his belt to unfasten it, pulling it out of the loops and dumping it on the floor, holding onto the zipper and tracking it down to hear it purr on decent.

“Where is it?” She asked, the teasing pass of her palm over his underwear forcing his eyelids to flutter. Jack knew what she was after, but he was one step ahead of her, and had been since the end of their phone call.

“You don’t need to worry,” His eyes finally tracked down to her chest, letting himself indulge not only in the physical, but the visual stimulation bestowed to him too, “I already prepared myself before you came.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Her calm tone was comforting, but the stern correction made him look back into her eyes. “I asked where it is.”

“Bedside drawer.” He reported back, gaze following her as she leant over to pull it open, to locate it, to place it on the top beside the lamp. The bottle was half empty.

“Use it a lot, do you?”

Jack’s cheeks flared with a blush, staining them a vibrant pink as if they weren’t already tinged with the evidence of his arousal.

“I guess.”

“You guess what?”

“I guess I do, Mommy.”

She hummed and smiled again, finally pulling down his trousers with her hands firmly grasped to the waistband.

“And you’ve been here for… What did you say? More than a month?” She asked, watching him nod, eyes tracking further down with every dip of his chin, “Then tell Mommy how much you missed her.”

She made a grab for the bottle of lubricant she’d just taken from the drawer, this time properly settling herself between Jack’s legs, letting him kick his trousers off of his ankles to leave them by the discarded belt on the floor. 

“I think about you every day.”

He hadn’t felt hands as smooth as hers against his skin in too long, and they traced the surface of his inner thighs while her eyes bored into his soul, working to pull the oh-so-desperate truth out of him, compelling him to reveal the lusting honesty of his thoughts and feelings concerning the weeks they’d been apart.

“Is that true?”

It was true enough. He nodded. She finally looked down.

His cock had been hard for some time now and she knew that, but seeing the proof of his desire before her own eyes sparked her ego all the more. She waited no longer in slicking up a hand and wrapping her fingers around it, watching his eyes flutter shut, a moan escape past his lips, his head relax into the pillow.

“Then you’re ready to be Mommy’s good boy now, aren’t you, Jack?” She whispered, to which he could only moan out a yes. She took up his hand with her own and placed it on her chest, “Then you’ll let me do whatever I want to you?” 

When did he not? 

His hand squeezed and he bucked up into her fist, whispering back,

“Yes, Mommy, of course, Mommy!” It only drove up his arousal more, the words just a pleasurable to say as the wet hand slicking up and down his length was to feel - just as pleasurable as the anticipation for what was bound to come next too.

He knew it was coming when she started to slow down, resting her hand at the base, leaning right over him, pushing his legs a little farther apart.

“You prepared before I even came here?” She asked, knowing he was just going to reiterate that he did.

“I did.”

She squeezed with her hand, applying just a bit too much pressure than what could be considered comfortable, making him wince a little, eyebrows slanting in a silent plea for her to ease up.

“You should know better than to play with yourself without permission, Jack,” He was leaking at just the verbal discipline, the authority in her words doing more than the tone of her voice or the grip on his dick, “When Mommy’s not around.”

“I did it for you, I’m sorry…” He breathed back, hand squeezing at her breast, desperately clinging on for some promise of a forgiveness that would be inevitable anyway. He corrected himself before she had the chance to as well, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

She dipped down even closer to him, resuming her position from before, their chests touching, Jack’s hand the only thing between their hearts. They paused in silence again, until, releasing its grip, her hand began to work its way further south, wet fingertips pressing against his hole.

“And what were you preparing for?” She asked him, again looking into his eyes for the answer.

Jack felt the flame in his cheeks this time: mortification and arousal both. She kissed against them slowly to draw his reply out, feeling the heat on his skin against her lips, letting him moan out in defeat before he could answer,

“For when you fuck me, Mommy.”

She smiled her lips against his jaw,

“That’s right, Baby,” Just calling him that made him moan again, “And you’re gonna be such a good boy while Mommy does that, aren’t you?”

The craving for her to commence had been gnawing at him from the moment she stepped past the threshold and entered the hotel room, before they’d even shed a single article of clothing. A question like that, no matter how rhetorical it was in reality, was never going to see him remain silent.

“Mhm.”

Two digits sank inside of him, curling up to find the sweet-spot they’d touched upon so many times before. He clutched with both hands now, his free one clasping to her upper arm, the place the purple bruises had already been dotted along her skin, digging into the soft flesh while she probed and soothed, using simple ‘sh’ noises and hums to make up for the effort actual affirming speech would take.

Still, every second of it was bliss, and even if some praise or talk - or any words whatsoever to make up for her absence as of late - would have made it feel ten times better, he could still bask in what he was receiving. And he could still give her the words he knew she wanted to hear.

“M- Mommy! Mommy! _Right there!_ Please!” He panted into her ear, immersing himself in the exploratory touches the two fingertips gave, pressing right into his prostate on every other push inside and out. She kissed him again for it, this time not in an effort to silence him, but rather as a reward, to covey all the pleasure that hearing such things brought.

Knowing full well what pleasure he’d be having with it, she still repeated his exclaim back to him with the next press into his sweet-spot,

“Right there?”

The teeth that were embedded into Jack’s bottom lip didn’t allow for any coherent words to come out, but rather an attempt at a ‘yes’ and a fully-fledged moan of wanton desire, adjoined by a keen nod that let his hair fall around his face. It was a delight to receive such a reply, of course – in what ways could it not be? – but she still wanted to hear that voice break before he had to chance to climax. She wanted to break him down before he could reach the pinnacle of his enjoyment.

With her fingers still brushing his sweet-spot on every pass, she reinforced her authority,

“Don’t bite your lip, Jack.” He released it in immediate compliance with the order, hoping to land him in better stead for permission to finish in due course, “Tell me how it feels, Baby. Use your words this time.”

His tongue ran across his bitten lip before he could conjure up the words in his head, stroking his thumb against her arm where it’d been pressing for the past few minutes,

“It- It feels so good, Mommy!” He put it concisely enough, knowing that as a writer, there ought to have been a better way to describe it than just that, but then her flingers curled up again, digging right into his prostate, “Ah, _fuck!_ Yeah!” 

The fingers stopped once the words were expelled in their impromptu outburst. They only compelled themselves out of him to reflect the sudden jolt of ecstasy the sensation gave him, nothing of the sort to be disrespectful or out of turn. Still, her other hand grabbed back onto his cock, squeezing at the base as it had done before, this time managing to force out a whine.

“I don’t want to hear that language, do you understand me?” She again relayed her message with calm, Jack’s response being all too frantic in contrast, and to her pleasure, all too broken as well.

“Yes! Yes! I’m sorry, Mommy!” He begged, and right after that came the voice break, “I _need_ it! _Please!_ ”

Her fingers resumed pistoning and her hand resumed stroking once that apology came through, his emphatically desperate tone quickly melting away into a slew of lascivious moans once the friction was built back up, his heavy eyes looking up at her, their pupils blown wide with lust. “It feels—” He started to retry his reply to the former question when he had to cut himself off with a short bite of his lip.

“Use your words, Baby, come on.” She encouraged his answer, beckoning it with every curl of her digits.

“It feels like I’m gonna come, Mommy!”

Of course it did; his arousal spoke for itself in the first place, and the well manoeuvred, well timed and well executed draws on the pleasure centres of his body were bound to ensure it. And she was okay with it. Because he’d deserved it.

For being away for that long, for not sleeping with anyone else, for doing the most, the being the sweetest, for the little hotel chocolate she knew he was going to offer her once they were finished – he deserved it.

“You can finish, Jack, that’s a good boy, do it for Mommy, come on…” She whispered, kissing him again, tongue swirling against his, carrying him through his orgasm while he moaned into her mouth with little scratchy whimpers, spilling onto his black shirt in spurts of pleasure.

“Thank you…” He whispered against her lips, stroking his hands down her torso while she withdrew her fingers, tracing up and down his inner thigh again while he floated into his afterglow.

The hair flopping over his forehead and blush staining his cheeks made him look endearing, almost forcing her to feel bad for her absence for so long, that she’d missed out on him and everything he was; how easy it was to make him squirm and beg and plead in that sweet voice, with his sweet eyes and his sweet lips.

She planted another kiss on him, plunging her hand into his locks, tracing her fingernails across his scalp.

“Did you enjoy that, Baby?” She asked, soothing him with a gentle touch.

He nodded and hummed, burying his nose against her shoulder. Her skin smelt like Voltaire 6. He wanted to hold her forever. Maybe he did care.

“Do you wanna see my view of Paris?”

She only let there be a second of pause before she replied, whispering to his ear,

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) Comments and kudos are appreciated ♥ Check me out on [Tumblr](https://100dabbo.tumblr.com/)!


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